


The Devil’s Temptation

by corruptedheroes



Category: 00silva - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Blood Play, Control, Dependency, Domination, Frottage, Hate Sex, M/M, Marking, PWP, Scars, Sub!Bond, Word Porn, bottom!Bond, dom!Silva, dub-con, top!Silva, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedheroes/pseuds/corruptedheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond fights off an addiction that he’s powerless to control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil’s Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarriorOmen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/gifts).



> My much belated 00silva gift exchanged present to Warrioromen. I hated first attempt, so I deleted it and started again! Many apologizes for the delay!

A dirt and blood covered agent sat in front of the bathroom mirror of his luxurious penthouse suite. He’s back in Macau in the same room he stayed in three years ago. Time certainly flew by. His latest mission concluded with a bloody gun fight. A few pieces of shrapnel grazed his shoulder that required cleanup and a few stitches. A few hours before and when the magazine clips ran empty, CIA black ops soldiers filled the room and apprehended the remaining criminals. A job well done and he expected there will be a congratulatory welcome once he heads back to the main base in London. After a hot and much needed shower, James Bond roamed the liquor bar, picking out his bourbon of choice. He wore a clean pressed suit because he won’t be spending the evening alone. _A friend will be stopping by_ , was the message he received from a blocked number.

The room was filled with rich shades of reds and golds, much like his last visit. The temperature was warm but not too hot. He waited with his back against the wall and eyes drifting into the evening sky. Already his glass tumbler was empty and as he was reaching for a different bottle of whiskey, a pair of strong arms wrapped possessively around his trim waist. He didn’t need to turn around to see who they belong to. It’s been two weeks since his last visit and Bond could tell that he was missed. He reached for the jump drive sitting on the wet bar counter in front of him and handed it over his shoulder. He could feel the growing smile against his neck with lips trailing on his exposed skin. Despite the close proximity, Bond’s stance was stern as ever but the man from behind could feel the weight shifted to the backs of his heels, ever so slightly leaning into the embrace. It was a victory as little by little the agent gave into physical comforts of his sworn enemy, Raoul Silva.

In the beginning, Bond was on Silva’s island longer than anticipated. At first, his minions would chain him up and he would be forced to bring himself to completion in front of Silva. The act was met to demoralize him but deep down inside, Bond got off on the idea of being watched. When Silva decided it wasn't enough, he positioned himself behind Bond and jerked him off himself. Day after day, he would repeat the process until Bond thrusted his hips with Silva’s brutal strokes, only taking a mere three minutes before he reached his climax. After the events at Skyfall, Silva’s ghost would haunt him until the illusion became real.

It started as mutual business partnership. Bond found out that Silva belonged to Quantum, a powerful criminal organization that was hellbent on the destruction of MI-6. Naturally, Silva had connections, and if Bond was going to bring them down, he needed his corporation to do so. His first mistake was underestimating the unstable ex-agent of MI-6. Silva was a force that could not be explained. A serpent that feeds on a man’s greatest fears and offers comfort because he would never passed judgement on such a flawed sense of morality. In fact, he nourished it. Fast forward to present day, that very same man stood behind him, exploring his well defined chest underneath his neatly pressed white collar shirt. Bond felt the blood rushing through his body. Shamefully, he couldn’t get enough of it.

No words were spoken because they didn’t need them. Hands confidently undo the buckle of his belt. Bond could feel the familiar resistance of his guilty conscious. He could’ve taken him out, right then and there. The agent was still armed after all; his gun in its holster underneath his left shoulder. The agency would award him with high honors - not that he truly cared - for turning in a known figurative, dead or alive. To hell with Quantum; there were other ways of getting information. But he doesn’t retaliate; his body wouldn’t let him. The top button of his trousers came undone, but the inner conflict continued in Bond’s mind. Silva cupped his growing erection over the wool material. A gasp escaped and his breathing raced to near hyperventilated state. He promised himself it’ll be one last fuck to get Silva out of his mind for good. It wasn’t the first time he told himself that, nor the last.

Silva removed his belt and bounded his hands behind his back, Bond resisted. When Silva reinserted his dominance, Bond eased off and allowed the belt wrap around his wrists. The agent walked towards the bedroom; he didn’t need to be told. He took his place in the center of the large bed, covered in golden satin sheets as Silva crawled towards him. The blond hovered over him between his spread obedient legs. The agent had much hatred in his eyes and Silva could only laugh as he ravished his bare neck with bites and kisses.

_Don’t give in._

When will the fugitive grow bored with him? It’s a question that ran constantly in Bond’s mind for months. The more important question was when will he reach for his gun to put an end to his madness. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the hard grind of hips between both men. Silva lined up his erection against his and started a brutal pace while his lips continued their worship of the physical perfection that laid beneath them. Bond didn’t know if his mind or body was in control but he noticed his legs spread further to accommodate the man between them. Silva grabbed his arse, pulling him impossibly close to the hard grind of his cock, earning a shout of curses and broken moans from double-oh seven.

_They’ll do anything for you, won’t they?_

Finally, those words had new meaning to them. Because irony had him under the skillful manipulation of a dangerous man. He was a traitor to his own country and Bond barely knew the man. Silva was incredibly unpredictable to a point where he didn’t know whether tonight would be his last. Perhaps, he’ll be deemed redundant and Silva would finally put an end to this cerade. Not bloody likely.

The belt behind his back was replaced for a pair of handcuffs attached to each of the bed posts. Clothing discarded, the agent laid naked, unashamed of his vulnerability and ever so resilient in his hatred for his enemy. Pure despite glowed in those blue iridescent eyes, but he was denying the truth. Silva lifted himself from the bed, walking away to go fetch something. Once he returned, he carried a black leather roll-up case. Silva was meticulous with his tools as he observed the shining scalpel in his right hand. Another thing he learned about Silva, he was obsessed in marking things that were his. Apparently, Bond’s own scars were not enough or they served as a constant painful reminder of his beloved M.

Silva discarded his own patterned collared shirt, displaying his own beauty - in his own words - to Bond. Begrudgingly, Bond admitted the different texture of skin was fascinating to observe under the dim light. There was so much pain in those scars but Silva took such pride in enduring such a hellish nightmare for the woman he onced loved. The ex-agent fancied himself as a bit of a romantic. The sterilized tool made its way down Bond’s tanned skin right above his left nipple. Bond grunted at the sharp pain, the cut was superficial enough that it didn’t require any stitches but still deep enough to leave an imperfection once fully healed. One scar for each visit was Bond’s understanding, though Silva would never speak about the ritual openly.  

The first drops of crimson made their way down from the first mark. Fascinated by the hypnotic patterns his blood left behind, Silva mindlessly ran his fingers through the drops, creating his own pattern.     

An alert sound broke the silence. It came from Bond’s tablet with M’s profile flashing on the screen. No doubt M wanted to debrief him on his next mission. A sick sadistic smiled creeped up on Silva’s face; the bastard would do such a thing. The ex-agent took his time strolling over to the oakwood desk. Fingertips danced on the glass surface, hovering over the _accept call_ button. Bond shot a deadly glare but Silva playfully ignored him. Fortunately, it was an audio only call.

_“Report, 007.”_ Bond remained silence for a brief moment before responding, his eyes locked on the other’s.

“Reporting in, M.”

_“Excellent, we apprehended several of Mr. Hinx’s men and brought them in for questioning. Though the casualty count was a bit high this time around, I would say job well done, 007. Upon infiltrating their hideout, we discovered an entire underground operation of dealing and trading nuclear grade weapons.”_

Silva rolled his eyes. He slipped out of his trousers, revealing he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The agent licked his dry lips at the sight as he continued to listen in on M’s intel, interjecting when needed in order to not arouse suspicion. Bond knew what was coming next. He was going to get fucked hard without mercy while M was on open speaker.

Repulsed by the lack of consideration towards his own dignity, Bond relied on his training to block out the image of Silva crawling between his legs, stopping at his inner thigh. Silva’s tongue darted for an old scar left behind during his Royal Navy days. Bond lowered his voice, enough to be heard by Silva but silent from the tablet’s microphone.

“Stop this madness or we’ll both get caught!” he hissed.  

But his demand fell on deaf ears as Silva continued to leave a trail of light kisses towards his crotch. His hot breath stirred Bond’s half hard cock into full arousal. The agent bit his lower lip; he won’t give him the satisfaction. The top layers of his stubborn resolve were disintegrating but he was desperately holding to whatever resistance he had left.

Silva skillfully lowered himself down, hovering dominantly over Bond's body. He laid heavy on his body with his hard cock nestled next to his own. Spitting on his own hand, Silva offered both of their cocks a crude substitute to lube. It didn’t matter. Secretly, the agent hoped his _business partner_ would finish soon and put an end to his nightmare. Already, his cock leaked its precum, slicking both of them up. Silva smiled as he started to grind hard and fast against his body. Bond bit down hard on his lip, he could feel the thick pulsating ridges against his own. The seemingly juvenile approach pitifully unhinging his true desires. The powerful sensations felt throughout his body were incredible. He mouthed the word fuck, still completely aware of M’s linger presence though his own tablet.

Bond couldn’t focus on the voices in the background, pouring over important details of his next mission. He was desperate to suppress the shameful noises coming from deep inside his chest. The thrust of Silva’s hips grew faster, wanting to know how fast and pathetic he would unravel. Bond looked into the black abyss that was Silva’s eyes; he revealed his hand that he was so bloody close to completion.

“I should’ve put a bullet between your eyes at Skyfall,” James whispered. His voice was so broken from overwhelming pleasure. Finally ceding at last, Silva lifted Bond’s body up, stalling at his entrance. Bond squirmed beneath him, desperate for that wonderful feeling of fullness and control. Silva pinned him down, preventing him from advancing any further. Only he was in control.  

“Go ahead, James. Tell them. Tell them that you secretly work for the enemy and that every night you beg for my cock inside your arse,” Silva whispered into his ear. Bond pulled away as much as he could. He could shout for help but how long would it take for backup to arrive? Silva would be long gone before then. He sighed; when did this became his existence? Those dark eyes glistened with pure joy as Bond’s hatred for him deepen.

“No...no...it’s not true.” Silva once again pushed his tip against his hole. Bond’s body betrayed him as his legs wrapped around Silva’s waist, desperate for the first rough and painful thrust. Silva slipped his hand between their heaving bodies, stroking Bond’s harden length, never increasing in speed nor pressure which left him in a frustratingly state of pre-climax euphoria. The blond would torture him for hours until he was obedient.  

“I won’t fuck you until you truthfully answer my question. Who owns you? Mind...body...and soul?” Bond pulled on his restraints, it was a game that Silva played often and always won.  

Finally, after considering the alternative which would leave him with a sharp pain in his stomach of a denied release, he relented and said, “you own me. Everything that I am belongs to you.”

Silva moaned at his admission, he ran his fingers through the short close cut blond hair. “Good boy. Now here is your reward.”

Slowly, he thrusted forward. Knowing how Bond’s body would react, Silva placed his hand on the lower curve of his back, supporting the arch that would soon follow after burying himself to the hilt. A groaned emitted from his throat, smiling into the agent's neck. The tip breached his tight ring and the pain shot up his spine in twisted bliss. Silva continued his descent, one inch after another, stretching Bond out while his warm body lovingly accommodated his own wide girth.

Bond arched his back and neck at the mixture of pain and intense pleasure. His mouth opened but no sound escaped. Finally, Silva got the response he was looking for. He always gets what he wants. Bond attempted to move back. It’s too much and the blond hasn’t bottomed out yet but his weight and a hard grip on his hips prevent such movement.  

Disappointed at Bond’s weakness, he thrusted hard into the perfect body beneath him. Silva’s head rolled back at the intense heat surrounding him, pulling him in further.

"I'm all the way in, my dear." Bond violently pulled once more on his restraints. The pain was like no other; it was utterly exquisite. There was no proper lube though that could’ve been easily solved on Silva’s part. He didn’t bother to use condoms for neither his sake of his own. The sick fuck wanted nothing separating them once they were joined together.

Under his half closed lids, he could see Silva above him in the throes of total ecstasy. Despite the brutal pace, the noise was kept at a minimum as Mallory continued with his briefing.  His body clenched again as Silva moaned in delight.  

Bond reached for the muscular scarred back, a wordless gesture that he was so close. Silva knew what would bring him over the edge. He leaned down to roughly capture those supple lips with his own. Those blue eyes darted open in shock; rarely do they kiss. Silva’s taste was exotic, comprised of a spicy bourbon that he might enjoy drinking. It was a sentimental gesture but that was all Bond needed. The uncontrollable rush of endorphins blinded his sight, enough to leave him breathless, Bond came hard. Bond gasped over Silva’s lips, feeling his body tensing up and locking hard on Silva’s cock. As his climax couldn’t get anymore intense, he finally felt his hot release spread between their two bodies.

Silva was right behind him, the beautiful way the agent’s body tense and twisted beneath him was enough. The blond emptied himself, filling Bond up until no room was left as drops of cum leaked out of his body. Another peak was hit after feeling his inner walls tightly closing in all around him. “Perfect,” Silva moaned. As his climax subsided, he collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Finally the voices that filled the room with white noise became clear to Bond.

_“That concludes the mission debriefing. You were unusually quiet this evening, double-oh-seven but we understand the exhaustion you’re feeling right now. We’ll forward you details along with travel plans for Station D. Stay safe, double-oh-seven. Logging out.”_

Silva smiled into the his neck, humming in salted satisfaction. The cuffs finally came off. Bond flipped over and descended downward to lick his own pearly release clean off of Silva’s tone stomach. In return, Silva rewarded him with appraisal while he carded his fingers through his short cut hair. Bond soaked in the attention; the night was far from over. He was truly lost. There was no turning back.   

“You’re mine. All mine,” Silva whispered.

Bond darted upwards, burying his face in Silva’s neck. He closed his eyes as tears threaten to spill and finally, after catching his breath, he uttered, “Always.”


End file.
